A Few Crossed Wires Later
by Queen of the Castle
Summary: Rose/Ten II. Sometimes Rose lets her hopes get a bit too high. That's always when they tend to crash down around her.


Rose had been watching the Doctor darting about her kitchen for over an hour now, ever since they'd arrived at her flat.

It was so surreal, seeing him there. Rose still had trouble believing he existed, let alone that he was right there, with her, in her messy little oh-so-human kitchen that she'd never had any intention of coming back to.

She'd proved the Doctor wrong. ("You can't," he'd said, and the rushing wind had seemed to scatter the shattered remains of her across the sand.) She'd defied the odds and managed to get back to him. So why did she still feel like the man she loved was universes away, even when he was right there in the same room?

Rose watched the Doctor's animated face speculatively. It looked the same as it had since his regeneration, before she actually tuned in to what he was saying.

"Honestly, this universe. Everything's backwards. Have you seen this?" the Doctor asked, looking bemused. "It's a solar-powered egg-beater. Seriously. Someone in this universe looked at an egg-beater and said, 'You know what? What this really needs is to have to be left outside to sunbathe for a few hours before it can actually be used.' Completely bonkers."

It gave her hope, because how could he say something completely mad like that and not be the same man?

Before she'd even properly thought about it, she was at his side and pulling him into a kiss. It was only the second time her tongue had swept across his teeth like that (this version of him, at least), but she was certain she could get used to it. His mouth tasted like the icing sugar he'd dipped into when he thought she wasn't looking. Only the Doctor could possibly taste like that, surely.

He pushed her away firmly, stepping back. His expression was confused, as if he couldn't figure out what had just happened. What really worried her, though, was that he retreated out of the room without a word.

Self-doubt crept through her mind like slow-acting poison. Perhaps Rose had unwittingly sabotaged herself. Even though she hadn't been completely sure he was the same man, Rose had looked at the part-human Doctor, who could live a life with her and actually _tell_ her that he loved her, and she'd thought that he was somehow even more perfect for her than she'd ever imagined. She'd made her choice, then. Even though she'd broken away from him to run after the TARDIS as it disappeared, she'd still chosen him.

What if she'd chosen the wrong man after all?

She'd thought that it was hell having the Doctor be in a completely different universe. The prospect of having him so close by but still having to live without him was, however, far more painful.

When the Doctor re-emerged, it was Rose's turn to be surprised by lips attacking hers, and teeth scraping gently across the soft skin of her upper lip. Unfortunately, it was over within just seconds. The Doctor took one step back, but didn't completely flee this time. Instead, he stood in front of Rose just shaking his head in disbelief.

"I thought that it was just that it was such a bad situation the first time," he said. Rose waited for him to continue, feeling lost. She hadn't a clue what he was talking about. "You kissed me, and... nothing. I thought it was a one-off. But it wasn't."

"What d'you mean, 'nothing'?" Rose asked, perplexed.

"It didn't make me _want_ you," the Doctor admitted quietly, his face flaming. He was much more prone to blushing since becoming part-human, Rose had already noted. "Before, I always wanted you. _Always_. But that's three kisses now, and nothing."

It took a moment for the implications of that to actually process in her mind.

"Nothing? What, seriously?" she asked, flatly.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said, not meeting her eyes.

Rose laughed quietly. She hoped that the bitter flavour she thought she detected in that sound was purely in her mind.

He'd always wanted her as a full Time Lord, he'd said. Now that man had left her behind, and the one who could say he loved her didn't love her _like that_ anymore. What a trade-off.

"I thought I could give you a proper human life, finally," the Doctor continued, the corners of his eyes crinkling sadly. "But something's gone a bit wrong. Here you are, and I can _see_ that you're still so beautiful, but I just don't _feel_ it. Why don't I feel it?"

"Is it ... is it _me_?" she asked. "Is it because I've changed?"

"Oh, no," the Doctor assured her quickly, an odd sort of pity that Rose didn't like the look of colouring his gaze. "It's all me, honestly. You're ... _you_. I've just got my wires crossed or something. A bit too much of Donna in me, maybe."

"Can't you uncross them, then?" Rose asked in a small voice.

The Doctor shrugged sort of helplessly. "I don't know. This is all new to me. There's never been another man like me, and _I've_ certainly never been a man like me before. I just don't know. Sometimes this sort of thing has happened when I regenerate and then sorted itself out with time. I hope that's what happens here, but ..."

Rose reached for the Doctor's hand, then. Even before they'd really known each other properly, the intimate slide of their palms pressed together had become an integral part of their connection.

He grasped her hand in his desperately. She squeezed back.

He was different, obviously, but their hands felt the same together.

"What you said on the beach," Rose prompted abruptly. "Is that true?"

"Yeah. I love you," the Doctor said. It still stunned Rose that he could get the words out so easily, after so many times of wishing he'd just _say it_ already. "Of course I do. Always. How could I not? You're Rose Tyler."

"And you're the Doctor. So, as usual, you're being an idiot," Rose said. The Doctor looked taken-aback. "I think we're both being a bit stupid, actually," Rose continued. "Maybe we're just so busy tryin' to have everything right away, after being apart for so long, that we can't even really see what we've already got. Don't you think?"

"I might not ever be able to give you what you want," the Doctor warned.

"I spent two years with you, without any kissin' or whatever," Rose said. "_That's_ what I want. Just to be with you."

It wasn't quite true, of course, but Rose thought that she'd told much worse lies in her life. This time it was a falsehood that she could live with, at least.

She imagined a life spent by his side, with a tiny wish niggling at the back of her brain that she'd chosen the other man, or that _this_ man returned her feelings. Then she thought about a life where she didn't stay with him just because it'd be too painful to be with the Doctor and have him not care for her like that.

It wasn't even a choice.

"I love you," she admitted. It was the first time she'd said it to this part-human version of him, and only the second time she'd said it to the Doctor overall. This time she followed it with, "Don't leave me."

She'd promised him forever before they'd been separated, and at the time she hadn't ever really allowed herself to expect more than friendship with him. She wasn't about to take that vow back now just because for a while she'd let herself hope for more.

She focused on the feeling of his hand, clasped around hers, being just as she remembered it.

It wasn't what she wanted most in all of the universes, maybe, but it was still _enough_.

Maybe, one day, it might even be more.

~FIN~


End file.
